Chapter 29 Gio
GIO
By the time I roll out of bed, the house is already breathing with morning sounds—muffled voices in the kitchen, the low clink of dishes, the hiss of the espresso machine.
I came in late last night, long after the lights were out, slipping through the front door like a thief because I didn’t want questions. Not yet.
No one knows.
Not about Stephanie’s memories crashing back into place, not about the way she looked at me like it was me ripping out her heart as she told me to stay away.
The words are still wedged under my ribs, sharp enough to bleed if I move wrong.
I linger on the stairs a beat longer than necessary, adjusting my face, steadying my breathing.
Then I head for the kitchen, skipping the breakfast room completely in the hopes that I can avoid anyone lingering there.
Even the kitchen staff have mostly filtered out for the time being, leaving me to pour a cup of black coffee and sit at the modest nook reserved for employee meals.
I take a sip of the dark brew and cringe.
It’s cold.
But I don’t get up and toss it.
Instead, I sit and stare into it like it’s the reason I’m walking through life like a ghost again.
Because that’s better than smashing my fists into the wall of Miko’s new home.
The kitchen around me is too quiet for a place this size.
The mansion—compound, really—has that constant undercurrent of noise—boots in hallways, low voices in Russian, doors shutting with just enough force to remind me of where I am.
But this morning, the only sound is the faint hum of the refrigerator and my own heartbeat thudding dully in my ears.
I can’t stop replaying her face.
Stephanie’s eyes when she told me she didn’t want me in her life anymore.
Not angry.
Not even cold.
Just… final.
For Jackson’s sake.
I rake my hand over my face, willing the image away. It doesn’t budge.
The door swings open, and Anika—Miko’s petite, blue-eyed, platinum blonde bride—walks in, loose braid hanging over one shoulder, coffee mug in hand.
It’s decaf, of course, because she’s several months pregnant now, though I wouldn’t guess it to look at her.
She takes one look at me and doesn’t bother with pleasantries. “What happened?” she asks, sliding into the chair across from me.
I know she and Miko talk. I’m sure she’s aware of who Stephanie is to me, that I found her again recently, and that it’s her house I’ve been staying at these past few weeks.
But I don’t know if Sandro would have told anyone about our conversation in the gym yesterday—and I’m certain no one knows about the aftermath of my going to Stephanie’s shop.
I’m still not sure I’m ready to talk about it. Then again, I’m not so sure I’ll ever be.
And when it comes right down to it, I owe my brothers that conversation—because it doesn’t just involve Stephanie.
It involves Kenji—a threat they need to know is still alive and kicking.
But Anika is not my brother, and while I’ve gotten to know her quite well these past few months and think she’s a perfect match for Miko, I don’t know how I feel about spilling my guts to her.
For a long moment, I consider brushing her off, but my guard’s too low this morning, and that aching hollowness in my chest only intensifies when I try to swallow the words down.
“She remembered—Stephanie did,” I say flatly. “She remembered everything. And then she told me she doesn’t want me around anymore. She’s worried my presence could endanger her son, and she’s not wrong.”
Anika studies me over the rim of her mug, calm but sharp. “And you’re just… accepting that?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” My voice is quieter than I expect, but the pain is there, lingering right under the surface.
She shakes her head slightly, like I’m missing the obvious. “Gio… sometimes, women have trauma to work through. We lash out at the people we love, even when it only hurts us in the end. It’s self-defense.”
I start to look away, but something in her tone makes me hold her gaze.
She’s not just talking about Stephanie—she’s talking from a place she’s been.
I know enough about her story to feel it in my bones.
She spent a year married to a monster who bruised her soul before Miko came crashing into her life and ended him.
It took her time to believe men weren’t all like that.
To believe love wasn’t just another cage. And her words ring with newfound wisdom because of that.
“I’m touched you’d want to make things right for me,” I tell her.
“And I’m glad to see how happy you and Miko make each other.
But this isn’t unjustified fear talking for Stephanie.
She has a right to believe what she does.
” I drop my gaze to my hands, flexing them around the mug.
“I failed to protect her when it mattered most.
I’m the reason she lost her memory, the reason that, for eight years, she had to find her way through life and raise a son completely alone.
Now, she’s afraid that someone could come for her son like they did for her if she stays with me.”
Before Anika can respond, Miko walks in, the air shifting instantly with his presence.
He presses a kiss to her temple like it’s instinct, then looks at me. “Give us a moment, Topolina.”
Reaching across the table, Anika squeezes my hand, then rises from her chair before slipping out once again.
Miko sits across from me, leaning in, forearms on the table as he gives me that look that only an older brother can. “You have something to tell me?” he asks.
“Aside from the fact that Kenji’s alive—and came into Stephanie’s shop yesterday?” I ask. “Just that she got her memories back and now wants nothing more to do with me.”
Miko stays silent as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
His blue Novikov eyes that mark him as separate from the rest of my siblings scrutinize me with a calm objectivity.
He doesn’t pry for details or try to give me advice.
He doesn’t even try to console me.
He knows better than to waste his energy on something so futile.
Instead, he releases a heavy breath and combs his fingers through his dark locks. “If Kenji’s still alive—and he saw you with Stephanie—it’s safer for her and her son if you bring her here until we finish this fight.”
I shake my head before he’s even done. “She made it clear she doesn’t want my protection. She can’t trust it. And honestly, how could I blame her? After what happened, I’m not sure I trust it either.”
“Gio, you did everything you could to get her back. What happened—none of us saw it coming. We were in the middle of peace negotiations when the Bernardis took her—”
I shake my head forcefully, cutting off Miko’s objection as a fresh wave of guilt and self-loathing rises up inside me.
I’ve been so distracted lately, caught up in chasing Stephanie, that I never even told my brothers about her recurring nightmare—or the implications of it. “Don Augusta gave that order,” I say. “He never said a word about it. And like an idiot, I trusted him.”
Miko’s expression hardens, but not at me—at something older, deeper. “Our father was not the man we thought he was. We knew he could be cold. Cruel. We thought it was to make us stronger, to prepare us for the world we live in.”
He leans forward, voice low but fierce. “But he did it to control us, to manipulate us. He did it to me when he hid the truth about my birthright as the Bratva heir. And he did it to you when he took Stephanie and let you believe you failed her.”
The words hit like a slow punch.
“This wasn’t your fault, Gio,” Miko says. “It was the machinations of a sick, power-hungry man who’s now rotting in the ground—and the world’s better for it. You can give up the inheritance, Gio. That’s your choice. But don’t give up on Stephanie. Not when she means so much to you.”
I take a deep, steadying breath, momentarily stunned by the conviction in my brother’s voice.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so vehemently support the concept of love.
“You’ve… come a long way, Miko. Anika’s good for you.
I can see it. And I appreciate what you’re saying.
But I can’t force myself into Stephanie’s life if she’s telling me to stay out of it.
She needs space. If that’s the only thing I can give her right now, then that’s what I’ll do. ”
He watches me for a long moment, like he’s measuring whether to push harder.
Then he nods once, slowly, and gets up, leaving me alone with my cold coffee.